


Authenticity

by On_Every_Spectrum



Category: Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Anxiety, Aro Tony Stark, Aromantic, Aromantic Rhodey, Aromantic Tony Stark, Autism, Autistic Author Writing an Autistic Character, Autistic Tony Stark, Canonical Character Death, Coming Out, Deaf, Deaf Character, Deaf Clint Barton, Depression, Disability, Disabled Author, Disabled Tony Stark, HRT, Hormone Blockers, M/M, Masking, Mental Illness, Mentally Ill Clint Barton, Mentally Ill Tony Stark, Platonic Sex, Polyamorous Character, Polyamorous Clint Barton, Polyamorous Phil Coulson, Polyamorous Tony Stark, Polyamory, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Queer Author Writing a Queer Character, Queer Avengers, Queer Character, Queer Themes, Queer Tony Stark, Queer author, Queerplatonic Relationships, Sensory Needs, Sensory Overload, Stealth Character, Stimming, Tony Stark Has Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Top Surgery Scars, Trans, Trans Author Writing a Trans Character, Trans Avengers, Trans Clint Barton, Trans Female Character, Trans Male Character, Trans Pepper Potts, Trans Tony Stark, autistic author, hormone replacement therapy, mentally ill author, polyamorous avengers, qpr, trans author
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-08
Updated: 2020-01-08
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:01:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22166065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/On_Every_Spectrum/pseuds/On_Every_Spectrum
Summary: "Howard wasn't ever going to win father of the year in anyone's book. Including his own child's. He was more interested in the image of having a son than, you know, his actual son. So, Tony figured he better thank his lucky stars that it was a son that Howard had so desperately wanted. A son he'd longed for."
Relationships: Clint Barton/Phil Coulson, Clint Barton/Tony Stark
Comments: 20
Kudos: 297
Collections: Assassin Twins + Tony, To reread: trans characters, Wholesome Queer Fics





	Authenticity

**Author's Note:**

> As always, these characters' experiences are their own. They cannot speak for every trans or disabled person. Their experiences are however based on my own experience of being queer and trans and disabled and polyamorous and actively involved in all of those communities.

No one could say that Howard Stark was the definition of progressive. He was a capitalist through and through. And, he didn't really care about people other than himself.

Sure he wanted to change the world. But, only in ways that would make him richer. And, preferably increase his fame.

He also wasn't ever going to win father of the year in anyone's book. Including his own child's. He was more interested in the image of having a son than, you know, his actual son.

So, Tony figured he better thank his lucky stars that it was a son that Howard had so desperately wanted. A son he'd longed for.

Because progressive or not, loving father or not, when his four year old was insistent that he was a boy, despite the best judgement of the first class doctor who'd overseen his birth, Howard honestly wasn't opposed.

He wanted a son. And, maybe he didn't get one the traditional way. But, he had a child who was absolutely convinced that they were one. And, at least a few therapists saying that he probably wasn't crazy. That was good enough for Howard.

For Maria it was just the joy on Tony's face when he got his first haircut. And, the way he snuggled up against her when she called him her sweet boy.

So, Tony got to be Tony. Simple as that. Plus or minus several NDAs and a whole host of legal paperwork on his father's part. Howard was determined that the general public never become aware that Tony was ever thought to be anything other than a boy.

Maria suggested that he might like her grandfather's name. Held her little boy in her lap, and showed him weathered photos of the man she'd loved so much. He'd agreed. And, Anthony had quickly become Tony.

* * *

Tony was an assertive exuberant child. He moved too much. Flapped his hands and twirled about.

He talked too much. Chattering to himself more than anything. Repeating phrases. Jumping between topics. Making connections that no one else could follow.

Howard watched him and scowled. Snapped that wasn't any way for a proper young man to act. 

Maria watched her joyful child and smiled. Captured memories of the way he danced.

Tony grew up. Pushed too hard too fast. Private tutoring. Accelerated courses. Prestigious boarding schools. College at 13. MIT because Howard would accept nothing else.

He started hormone blockers at eleven and T at fourteen. Could grow a goatee by eighteen and did so proudly.

He started drinking at fourteen too. Because everyone else did and it dulled the sharp edges on things and he had too many assignments due and he really just wanted to see his mom.

She died less than a year later. And, getting tipsy on weekends turned into drunkness every day and hangovers all through class. But, the throbbing headache was better than the sharp little pins the rest of the time, from his classmates talking, the air conditioner, and the squeaky dry erase markers.

Tony drank his way through an undergrad, a master's, and three doctoral degrees. Through inheriting the company when he came of age. Through countless board meetings and even more parties and constantly having to pretend to be something he wasn't and constantly failing to do it well enough.

* * *

No one really liked Tony. He built robots to be his friends. No one really liked him. Not until Rhodey. Not until Pepper. The two of them were a pretty short list.

He met Rhodey halfway through his second doctorate. It was honestly a miracle the man put up with him. Tony was a jerk. 

Rhodey had been tabling in the student center, promoting the Queer and Trans Graduate Students Association. He waved at Tony, handed him a flyer.

And, for a moment, Tony had been so freaked out. So scared that this random guy had somehow clocked him. It was irrational, but his anxiety was like that.

Stupid him. Forgetting that the tabloids made certain that the entire world knew he was pan. Not that he ever actually fucked anyone. Not that he ever could. 

Didn't stop the tabloids from turning every single drunken night dancing with someone cute into more than it was. Didn't stop his dance partners from claiming that. Hungry for their fifteen minutes of fame.

Tony didn't really care. They weren't wrong. Expect for all the ways in which they were. 

He took the flyer. And, attempted to recover from his initial poor reaction by flirting with the guy. After all, he was cute enough. And, Tony had always been told he could be charming. Who knew, maybe he even could be.

"I'm aro." Was Rhodey's deadpan response. He seemed slightly amused, but mostly unimpressed. He only grew annoyed when Tony kept pushing. 

Tony left feeling even worse about himself than usual. He was a shitty person. He drank himself into a stupor that evening. But, the following Wednesday, he showed up at the meeting. And, somehow, despite it all, the two of them became friends.

* * *

Pepper was different. It took longer for them to become close. All Tony had wanted was a personal assistant who would last more than a few weeks. Fed up with the constant turn around, he'd asked to be involved with the hiring process himself.

It was the only reason he was cc'd on an email about a "discrepancy" in one of the candidates' background checks. Tony was curious. He'd always been curious.

It only took a moment for him to schedule a meeting with the applicant himself. "You didn't disclose all of your personal information on your background check form." He noted aloud, not certain how else to start.

"I didn't." The young woman agreed in a matter of fact tone. Tony blinked, he didn't know what he'd expected. Whatever it was, it wasn't this. "Why?" Was his only response.

"How many fortune 500 companies do you know that employ trans people?" Was her response. "I stopped sharing my deadname on job applications and I started getting hired."

Tony nodded. It was a fair point. And, honestly, he wasn't one to talk about total honesty. His own deadname was hidden under years of paperwork and legal restrictions. 

He offered Pepper the job that evening. They became friends over the course of several years. He made her CEO eventually. He never did tell her that he was trans also.

And, that was it. He had Rhodey and Pepper. He had his company. He actually loved his work. 

Not the endless meetings. People were so hard. Remembering to look but not too long and be close but not too close and talk in circles. It was exhausting. And, he wasn't very good at it.

But, in his own workshop. He could do anything. He loved creating. Solving puzzles. Each piece connected to countless more. Loved the connections.

He started drinking less. Still enough to dull the constant cacophony of noise and soften the rough, scratchy, weird textures. Still enough, but not as much. Not enough to drink himself into a stupor.

He was okay. He had friends. Well, two friends. That was something. He had a job he liked more than he didn't. He had tools. He was okay.

* * *

Then everything in Afghanistan happened. 

He hadn't been subjected to the world without without alcohol to dull it since he was fourteen. That was almost as bad as the torture. Not as bad, but more constant. He needed an escape. 

So, he did what he did best. What he should have done years ago. He built one. He built a suit that muffled and dulled. That protected him from all of the things that were too much. That let him get out of there.

He escaped in more way than one. He got home, and he kept building suits. Each one slightly better than the last. 

He was less and less dependent on alcohol. He didn't need it.

He was dubbed Iron Man.

Things still weren't perfect, but they were getting better. He was getting better.

It took him longer to acknowledge his PTSD. Longer to get in therapy.

When he finally did, he got a formal PTSD diagnosis. He also found himself with diagnoses of anxiety, autism, and depression that had nothing to do with the torture. They still explained a lot.

He had language for who he was. How he felt. Context to understand that no most people really don't feel like this. And, it wasn't because he was broken or wrong. He was just different.

He stayed in therapy. It was good. It was good for him.

Pepper was proud of him. Rhodey was too, though he showed it differently.

Tony was probably doing better than he had since he was about ten. Still not great. The palladium poisoning sucked. He still screwed things up. He was still imperfect. But, things were better.

* * *

The Avengers were the catalyst that changed everything. He'd been surprised when Fury invited him. Even just to "consult." The man was possessive as heck and continued to delude himself that his team of tech kids could come close to rivaling Tony.

If he'd been invited in, it meant something big. And, that worried Tony.

But, he was an expert at masking. He didn't show it. Made the right cavalier impression. Squabbled with Captain America. Got to geek out with Bruce Banner, which was actually super cool.

They all fought. Fought each other. Fought together. Same difference.

Saved the world.

Tony made a self-sacrificial play he somehow came back from. 

* * *

And, waking up in that hospital bed and realizing he was still alive was still less surprising than realizing who else was there. 

Sure, you almost sacrifice yourself for someone and they feel obligated. Captain America, he wouldn't have been surprised. The man was a paragon of virtue. Bruce, that would have been nice. He liked to think they bonded. Romanoff, Natalie, Natasha, whatever her name was, sure. She had every reason to feel guilty when it came to him.

But, Barton? Clint Barton. The guy who shot arrows and got brainwashed and kicked in the head and flew a plane for them. Tony could have sworn they barely even exchanged a word. Did they talk at all? He honestly didn't remember.

So, what the hell was the man doing sitting on a chair at the end of his bed? Playing with some kind of twisty plastic thing. It was bright purple.

"What are you doing here?" He mumbled, too tired and confused too be really surprised. "Took you long enough." Barton replied, not answering Tony's question he noted with annoyance. "To do what?" Tony scowled.

"Wake up." Barton shrugged. "And, then to acknowledge you were awake. What the hell were you thinking about anyways? Just lying there without a word."

"None of your business." Tony retorted, about to roll back over and try to get some more sleep. 

He was just closing his eyes when a crumpled scrap of paper hit him square between the eyes.

"Seriously." Tony sighed, rolling his eyes and tossing the paper back at Barton.

A response that backfired, when he caught it deftly and said "Sweet. Got my ammunition back."

At that Tony actually did roll over and close his eyes. Barton could throw paper at him all he wanted. He'd slept through worse.

When he woke up again, Barton was still there. And, he just kept showing up.

* * *

Tony had snapped one point. About five weeks past being discharged, when he got another message from reception saying Barton was there to see him. Again.

"What the hell do you even want?" 

He hadn't planned to. It just came out. He'd been in the middle of a project. And, he had a board meeting that afternoon he really had to attend.

Mostly though, he was just confused. And, he'd never handled confusion well.

At the moment, Barton seemed pretty puzzled as well though. He held up the bag he brought, pointing to it with his other hand to draw extra attention.

"I already told you. I brought pizza. And, I'm down for Star Trek if you like." He set the plastic bag down and started pulling out pizza boxes and paper plates. 

"Seriously, man, what gives? You're always so snappish when I come over." He asked as he dished out big slices of pizza for both of them. He'd brought way too much food. 

"You know I have food here?" Tony asked, still not taking his pizza. Barton hadn't tried to pass it to him. He never did try to hand Tony things. He didn't know why.

It was probably in a SHIELD file or something. Tony had never told Barton he didn't like being handed things. He'd hacked SHIELD more times than he could count and never seen that written down anywhere though. 

Maybe he just noticed. Tony's reactions weren't the most subtle, but that didn't prevent most folks from ignoring them.

"Yeah. But, I wanted pizza." Barton was already half of the way through his first slice. Scarfing it down eagerly.

"You could have gotten pizza?" Tony spoke slowly. This felt like college all over again. Never understanding the stuff everyone else assumed he got. Constantly feeling like he was missing something, but having no idea what it was.

"I did." Clint pointed at the pizza yet again. Seeming even more bewildered.

"And, you brought it here?" Tony really should have stopped talking by now. Dropped it, taken the pizza, and pretended he understood what the hell was happening. He'd learned that much by now at least.

"Yeah. You never eat lunch when you ought to. And, who doesn't like pizza?" Which still did nothing to answer Tony's question.

And, as much as he knew he should drop it, he also knew that wasn't going to happen. So, he dug in and got serious.

"Really, why do you keep showing up? I'm out of the hospital. I'm perfectly fine. Whatever is going on here, I don't need it. You don't have to put up with me."

Someone else might have been able to read the mix of emotions on Barton's face, but Tony certainly couldn't.

"Seriously?" Barton put his plate of pizza down and turned to Tony. "What's going on here" and even Tony could hear the quotations around that. "What's going on here is friendship. And, if you don't want it fine. Tell me. But, I'm not "putting up with you." I like you."

He breathed. Paused a minute. And, continued more quietly. "I thought we were becoming friends."

"Oh." Was Tony's only response. He talked a lot. Didn't mean he was good with words. The silence stretched for too long. Tony desperately trying to process and far too distracted to figure out a response.

"So Star Trek?" Barton asked finally, some of his usual bravado back, but still seeming slightly unsure. 

"Star Trek." Tony repeated, not certain how to reassure him. "Star Trek sounds great." He finally grabbed his pizza, taking a giant bite. "This is delicious. Thanks." He mumbled around a mouthful of bread and cheese.

They watched Star Trek. Turned out Barton was a fan of the Original Series. Which just made him wrong in Tony's opinion. Tony's favorite was Deep Space Nine, so they compromised and watched Next Generation.

"As long as we don't start with the first season." Clint had argued. Not that he needed to. Tony was in full agreement. They settled on an episode that was mostly Data and Geordi being buddies.

That was kind of way to communicate that Tony was good being friends with Barton, right? That he hadn't meant to be a jerk. He just didn't quite understand.

Turned out Clint was a pretty awesome friend. They hung out semi-regularly. Always lowkey. Watched lots of Star Trek. Had a few deep conversations.

Once when Tony was sick, Clint showed up with soup. Tony was startled enough by the offering... Since when was Clint Barton the kind of guy who showed up with soup when you were sick? ...that he almost didn't notice it was homemade soup. Since when was Clint Barton the kind of guy who made homemade soup?

"This is delicious. Thanks." He finally managed. Two bowls of soup and three Star Trek episodes later. "Who taught you to cook?"

"Self-taught." Clint replied, pausing the show. Tony always forgot. At least this time he could use being sick as an excuse. Clint couldn't really follow the captions and Tony talking at the same time.

"Phil can't cook worth a damn and I like good food. I learned out of necessity." He laughed, meanwhile Tony was hard at work trying to come up with every Phil he knew of.   
When he finally realized that the most likely candidate was Agent Phil Coulson, he almost choked on his soup. "Phil?" He asked, already doubting himself. 

"Phil Coulson. My husband?" Clint replied, eyebrow raised and tone incredulous , like Tony was the only making no sense. 

"Oh, right." Tony tried to sound as if that wasn't totally shocking information. Well, learn something new everyday. "I would have taken him for some kind of food snob." He observed.

"Phil?" Clint snorted, in obvious amusement. "He'd live off of stale gas station donuts and bad coffee if I let him." He laughed. "He tried to impress me on one of our first dates by cooking. Let me tell you, it didn't end well." He smiled.

Tony smiled back. Well, you learn something new every day.

* * *

The Avengers were all invited to some ridiculous pool party for Captain America's birthday.

Tony still didn't believe that the man's birthday was actually July 4th. Whatever he said. That had to be propaganda. Maybe the government had brainwashed Steve to believe it also.

Regardless, whether it was true or not, here they all were. Giant pool, bathing suits, more photographers than you could count. 

Tony was miserable. It was 98° out. Unreasonably hot for summer. And, he was wearing full suit and tie to make it abundantly clear he had no plans of swimming.

Still, it was horribly hot. And, Clint was late, because of course he was. And, Bruce couldn't come because he was scared of the press and trying to keep his identity secret, so Tony was sulking in a corner by himself and trying to pretend he wasn't.

When Clint finally did arrive he was completely prepared to give him a hard time. Teasing him for being late. Yet, he found himself way too distracted by Clint's prominent top surgery scars.

Well, semi-prominent. Probably not that prominent if you didn't know what you were looking at. Just thin lines, but undeniably from top surgery. Tony couldn't imagine anything else they could come from.

He blinked, shaking his head. Took in the rest of Clint. The man was wearing a fitted bright purple pair of swim trunks and matching purple sunglasses. 

He was also holding Phil Coulson's hand. Phil was wearing black trunks and black sunglasses. Was anyone surprised? Tony didn't think the man even owned other colors.

"Hey, Clint! Coulson." He called out with a wave. "Good to see you buddy." He truly was overly relieved to have a friend present. 

Clint looked him up and down with an amused gaze. "Not quite dressed for a pool party, are you?"

Tony resisted the urge to squirm, forcing himself to be nonchalant. "Swimming isn't my thing." He refrained from the snarky remark he'd give most folks. Too easily put on the defensive when his boundaries came up. Even with people he knew wouldn't push them.

"Fair enough." Clint said with a smile and a shrug, proving Tony's trust wasn't misplaced. Coulson was still standing there, watching the interaction. Still holding his husband's hand. It was actually kind of cute.

Tony hated having to explain his stuff. Normally he just didn't, but now it felt weird. He trusted Clint, he just didn't want to get into it right now. Swimming was weird sensory wise in a way he couldn't quite explain. He'd never liked being submerged in water, even before Afghanistan.

He could have worn a swimsuit though. Counted on people here not to push him in or otherwise be jerks. Not like in college. He felt out of place in a suit. Aloof in a way that he had been aiming for, but was suddenly uncomfortable. 

Next year he resolved to wear a swimsuit. He didn't have any surgery scars of his own to hide. He'd been on hormone blockers at an early enough age to never develop that way to begin with.

"Don't let me keep you from swimming." He said, as the silence stretched with Clint. He felt uncomfortable and unsure of himself. He didn't feel that way as often anymore around Clint, but here he was out of his element.

Clint swam. Coulson did too. But, both of them hung out with him a lot as well. At first Tony felt guilty that they weren't getting to swim and enjoy the party. It took a bit to realize that they were actually enjoying spending time with him.

* * *

Eventually one of the reporters accompanying the entire army of photographers got through to their group. Tony handled the initial slew of questions. He was used to reporters. Eventually they turned their attention to Clint and Coulson though.

"You two were spotted holding hands earlier." Was their not so subtle lead. "Care to comment?" 

Clint raised his eyebrow. "Comment on holding hands with my husband? I hardly think that's a newsworthy behavior." 

The reporter blinked. "You and Agent Coulson are married?" They confirmed, recovering quickly.

"For almost eight years." Coulson chipped in with a bland smile. As if they were merely exchanging pleasantries.

"Congratulations." Was all the reporter managed, seeming unsure what to ask next. 

They were at it again quickly. "The scars on your chest are rather unusual. Are they from a mission?" Tony felt a sense of dread, worried his friend was going to be outed. 

Then again, if the reporter was as clueless as their question made them appear, maybe Clint really could get away with pretending they were just a surprisingly parallel and tidy battle wound.

Clint looked down at his chest. "These scars?" He confirmed. "Nah. They're from surgery. Nothing exciting." He seemed totally nonchalant. Tony watched closely, still uncertain if he should intervene.

"Surgery?" The reporter asked, seeming disappointed there wasn't a juicy story there. Once again, they didn't seem to know where to go from there, so they wrapped up with another few common questions.

That evening though the internet had taken a clear photo of Clint's bare chest and his comment about surgery and ran with it. Everyone was convinced that Hawkeye was trans, it varied whether they were happy about it or not. 

* * *

The next day Clint was somehow on Ellen DeGeneres's talk show. "I'm trans." He confirmed with a wide easy smile, simple as could be. "I am not however willing to discuss my transition and medical history with the press." He continued, firmly. "There needs to be a greater focus on trans stories than trans bodies." He chuckled. "And, not just from white guys like me."

They chatted further. It was a good interview. Clint seemed comfortable and came across as charming and easy going. 

Tony was reeling. Simply as that there was an openly trans Avenger. And, yeah, there were bigots. But, a lot of people seemed fine with it.

Howard had worked so hard to hide Tony's trans status. He'd never told Tony himself to keep it hidden. He'd never even assumed that he might not want to. But, now, Tony was wondering for the first time about being out. Was that something he could ever want?

When he asked Clint about everything, he simply shrugged. "I'm not stealth. Never wanted to be." He pointed a thumb loosely at himself. "That's just me personally though. I've got nothing against folks who are."

"Yeah. I knew the swimsuit would probably lead to that hoopla. But, it was going to come up some way or another. And, I didn't want to make a big announcement..." He trailed off. "That's the same outfit I'd wear to any pool party. Press or no press."

"Fair enough." Tony said with a shrug and a small smile he put on his face for good measure. "Good for you, man." He almost came out to Clint then. He didn't.

He did ask Pepper later about being trans. Her own decision to remain stealth. Why she wanted to.

"Honestly, I just don't want to be the subject of another ridiculous "first trans person to..." article every time I do anything. She laughed, but it was a bit bitter. "Trans people aren't anything new. Our mere existence shouldn't be breaking news."

"You're not ashamed?" Tony couldn't help but ask. Howard had always treated him slightly less than. It was still hard to believe that he wasn't.

"Of who I am? Hell no." Pepper spoke with conviction. "Being trans is awesome. Cis people are just rather a drag. No offense." She added after a moment, with a teasing smile.

"Why do you ask?" Her manner turned more serious. Thoughtful. Tony almost came out to her. He didn't. "Just curious." He replied. Truthfully, yet he knew full well that the answer wasn't satisfactory.

* * *

When he did come out, four months later, it was on Ellen DeGeneres's show. After all, it worked for Clint. He didn't tell anyone first. Couldn't figure out the words to.

The reception was mixed. And, honestly, Tony didn't really care. People hadn't ever liked him. But, his friends did. And, that was what counted. He had so many friends now.

Pepper rolled her eyes at him. "Took you long enough." Was her only comment. "Don't tell me you knew?" He complained. She just smiled and walked away.

"Hey. Guess the Avengers are officially a third trans." Clint said with a fist bump. "Our plan to take over is well under way." Tony rolled his eyes.

It was nice, personally, not to have such a big secret anymore. He could definitely see Pepper's point. The "first trans billionaire" articles were more than a bit ridiculous.

Still, it was nice. He enjoyed getting involved in the community. Meeting more trans people. Being able to donate to trans organizations. Hell, he enjoyed finally having sex. 

It was nice to not be constantly scared of being found out. He felt better in his skin than he had for years. Since he first came out. And, his mom had held him and called him her sweet boy and said how proud she was.

* * *

The first time he hooked up with Clint was unexpected. Tony had never really dated before. Rhodey had helped him figure out he was aro a long time ago.

And, honestly, he'd never considered polyamory. Probably 'cause he'd never considered relationships. 

But, Clint didn't want a romantic relationship. And, a QPR sounded nice. He loved Clint. Loved spending time with him. Turned out he loved fucking him. And, making out was a lot of fun as well.

They had a lot in common. Tony didn't have to be scared that Clint would be dismissive of who he was. Or not understand. They shared so many of the same identities. Both trans and disabled and mentally ill as heck. 

They shared a lot of interests as well. Nerdy TV and weird food and both enjoyed silly things like playing with Legos and building blanket forts.

Tony hadn't even considered that he could enjoy those things until Clint showed up with a giant bin of Legos and a laundry basket full of blankets and declared that they were having a date night.

It was the first time he'd ever built a blanket fort. It was a heck of a lot of fun. Especially when they got to make out in it afterwards. Tony wondered how he had gotten so lucky.

They had long conversations. About so many things. Their traumas. Their goals. The way they saw things playing out in the world. It was good to be able to talk authentically, and not worry he was doing it wrong.

They talked about their bodies and what they enjoyed and what they didn't. And, when Tony didn't know, Clint never held it against him. They took it slowly, tried new things with lots of check-ins, gradually learned about his body together.

Learned that he didn't like being fucked, but being eaten out was the best. Learned that he could go for a finger up his ass, but nothing larger than that. Learned that he liked being held down, but bondage triggered panic attacks.

Learned that after they played he needed to be held and reassured. Learned that water was good, but easier with a straw. Learned that deep pressure was better than light.

Tony loved getting to learn about his body together. And, loved learning about Clint's in return. Learning what made him breathless. How to take care of him. How to make him feel loved.  
  
He learned how to brew coffee the way that Clint liked it. And, the best way to rub his shoulders after a practice session on the range. And, started learning sign for sleepy pillow talk in the evenings once Clint's hearing aids were out.  
  
It constantly amazed him how perfect Clint felt in his life.

* * *

At first he thought it would be weird having Coulson for a metamour. Clint had to teach him that word. But, as it turned out, Phil was a pretty cool guy. Tony was happy to have him in his life.

He didn't think Phil would like him. Worried he might begrudge the time Tony spent with Clint. But, he didn't.

"Trying to make me the token cis, I see." He teased Clint. His only real comment on Tony's presence in their lives.

Turned out his girlfriend was trans too. A cellist in Portland of all places.

"You have a type?" Tony had teased, a few months into their friendship. "Not necessarily." Phil replied seriously. "I've dated plenty of cis and trans people over the years." He commented. "I do think many trans folks are hot as fuck though." He acknowledged. "Just not in a fetishizing way." 

And, Tony supposed he shouldn't have been surprised by Phil's serious answer. Identity was one thing he always took seriously. It got him thinking though.

He didn't think he could be with a cis person. It was good Clint had found such a great guy in Phil. Tony couldn't see having that kind of trust. Not when it came to bodies and sex and that particular kind of vulnerability.

Besides, Phil was right. Trans folks are hot as hell.

* * *

Tony felt good in his body. Better than he ever had before.

He had tools he could use to manage sensory input. And, the Iron Man suit for when things for really overwhelming. 

He was in therapy. He had friends who understood and cared about his triggers. And, who gave him care when he needed it.

He mostly managed to avoid alcohol. And, for once in his life was surrounded by people who didn't try to pressure him into drinking it.

He got to connect with other trans people. And, be open about who he was. He didn't feel so alone anymore.

He had really good sex with a guy he loved and who knew and accepted that Tony wasn't going to like him in a romantic way.

And, honestly, getting to fuck a hot guy with a body not so different from Tony's own was affirming as heck. Who the hell ever said guys with vulvas weren't sexy?

Tony's fiftieth birthday was better than anything he could have expected. All of his friends and loved ones. A table full of good food. And, as much Star Trek as they could handle.

Clint gave him one of those twisty plastic things he always fidgeted with. And, that Tony had been known to occasionally steal for himself. It was red and gold. Clint only got halfway through explaining that he'd pulled it apart and painted the pieces himself before Tony was making out with him.

And, Tony and Clint only got a few seconds into their fun before everyone else present started yelling at them to get a room.

"This is my room. It's my own apartment. In my own building. They're all my rooms." Tony had argued, smile on his face genuine for once. 

They were all good people. It was a good birthday. Tony had a good life.

Who'd have thought it?


End file.
